


Insert Witty Height Difference Reference Here

by GashouseGables



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, Gen, Married Life, Other, Porn With Plot, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29958213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GashouseGables/pseuds/GashouseGables
Summary: AH AU. So, Jasper and Alice are university sweethearts, happily married. Rosalie lost a bet and now has to be Jasper’s receptionist. Emmett is one of Jasper’s constant collaborators. Rosalie dumped Emmett and now she’s trapped in an expensive, luxury resort with him.
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale, Emmett Cullen/Rosalie Hale
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Insert Witty Height Difference Reference Here

Alice is feeling cheeky today. She’d taken a day off from work, which is always a careful tight-rope as she’s self-employed, and she’d bought herself the _cutest_ pair of shoes. Hubby has to see them immediately, and she certainly wouldn’t have him looking unprofessional enough to be checking his personal cell during work hours.

So she’s going to surprise him in his office. Sleek, glass-and-metal hideous building. And the elevator all the way to the 50th floor is such a hassle. She’s little and if she tried to stay out the way in a corner she ran the risk of being crushed among the suity-people and missing her floor. And wrinkling her clothes.

But she manages it with great success, and goes to greet Esme, hubby’s receptionist. A very conversative woman who, when Alice teasingly asked if she ever wore anything above the knee, responded that she never wore anything above mid-calf, and seemed to be completely serious.

“Hiya Esme!” Alice chirps before she gets to the reception desk, and stops when a young blonde with flat hair looks up at her.

“Esme Platt is on vacation. I’m filling in - Rosalie Hale?” the woman prompts, and Alice’s a little embarrassed to have yelled so soon - Esme had mentioned she needed to have a week off lately.

Rosalie Hale stands, and Alice feels the slight smile melt off her face. Beautiful face, hour-glass body, and long legs. Woman’s easily on the better end of five feet.

Alice used to enjoy using her short stature to flirt, but now that she was older, married, and her own boss, the amount of patronising from clients had fully grown her out of the pleasure.

“Hi, I’m Alice Whitlock,” Alice replies, sticking out a hand.

Rosalie is quick to shake it and just as quick to let it go. “I know, Esme filled me in. Jasper is free now,” Rosalie explains, already trotting over and opening the dark wood door for her, and waving her in.

Alice’s a little settled, that at least Esme has briefed her on how Alice came and went in the office, and thanks her before stepping inside.

“Sup sexy?” Alice calls, and her husband’s blonde head lifts up. She feels a shiver when she sees his expression; sexy is right. “You’re at work, mister,” she cautions, but put a little more sashay in her step as she sits on the corner of his desk.

He doesn’t say anything, reaching over and grasping her knee tightly. She bites her bottom lip; his big hands covering her entire knee was only reminding her how easily he could just slide his hand right up and ….

“I am at work,” he agrees, his voice slightly scratchy, and the corner of his lips pulled down, as though something is annoying him. “So you can imagine my surprise when I was cleaning my desk,” he shakes his head a little, a furrow in his brow, “and found these instead.”

She looks at his desk, and what she sees makes her sigh happily. They were the pictures from their elopement. They’d taken his father’s third-best bottle of wine and driven to the nearest city that processed marriage certificates day-of.

Alice feels a bubble of tender nostalgia. She’d been nineteen, and he was a big hot-shot twenty-two year old. Just finished his bachelor’s and brimming with potential glory. But that day she felt like the victor; Jasper was swearing to love _her_ forever, the officiant asked, ‘til death do you part?’ and he’d replied ‘not even then’.

So it’d made sense, then, that she’d wanted to show off. _Watch me, watch me, look at your bride_.

There was the one of her in just her white lace fancy-pants. In reality they’d been cheap and itchy as all hell, but she’d wanted something grown up. She was biting her lip and smiling at the camera, one arm cupped over her breasts, as though only her nipples were immodest.

Jasper runs a finger down the photo. “That was after I wrangled the camera off you - you got so shy, I felt like a dirty old man,” he recalls, chuckling lightly. Alice giggles too; but only because she hadn’t been shy. She just liked acting like the baby.

She had been the photographer first. There’s one of him completely nude, except he’d pulled his beat-up Stetson over his face with both hands, insisting that it was too blotchy to be seen. She feels her gut clench, eyes tracing over those stark tanlines and still slightly knobby knees; he was half-mast, his dick slightly to the left. Another of him, leant against the bed, hand wrapped around himself and she remembered how good it felt to watch - her southern gentlemen, her run-away groom, the way the tendons in his arm flexed as he jerked off.

The hand on her knee was rubbing up her thigh now, and she shivers. She does actually whine aloud when he pulls his hand away.

“What have you got to show me, lil’ darlin’?” he asks, eyeing her shopping bag. His brow’s quirked up, and he looks as smug as he always did when he called her that. Knowing it meant ‘ _your choice if we make it to the bedroom_ ’.

“Well,” she sighs, pushing off his desk and rummaging in the bag, she drops the bag and the shoe box onto the floor, kicking off her own heels and fixing the new ones on her feet.

“Make yourself at home.” he teases.

Alice rolls her eyes, shooting back, “Says the man who keeps my teenage nudes in his desk.”

“Excuse me, but a husband is allowed to store such valuables wherever he needs the most motivation. It’s in the constitution,” Jasper retorts, crossing his arms. He makes no move to collect up the photos spread all over his desk.

“Is not!” she laughs, successfully shoving her left heel in the shoe.

“Okay then, it was in our marriage vows,” he says with a careless shrug.

“Were not!”

“Well not _out loud_ ,” he mutters, watching her with amusement as she has both shoes on. The answer is cute enough that with a ‘hup!’ she jumps into his desk, like mounting a balance beam. She’s glad she went with her white blazer dress and not something longer and more restricting on her knees. Atop, she twists her ankles, showing off her new candy pink heels. Carefully avoiding stepping on any of their old memories.

“Got them on sale,” she explains proudly.

Jasper gives a low, appreciative whistle; his eyes rake over her, and then his gaze falls back on the photos. “Seven years don’t change you, baby.”

She feels a wave of love and embarrassment in equal turns, even as she shakes her head. “Oh, stop! I’m not fucking you at work,” she says, though she climbs down to sit right in front of him, and he rolls his chair until her new heels were propped up between his spread thighs. She looks straight at the slightly fuller bulge in his pants, and gives him a grin.

He gives a pouty frown in response, just for a moment, before he swipes up one photograph, and holds it next to her elbow.

“Hmm … it’s like a really hard spot-the-difference,” he murmurs, looking between her and the photo. She clicks her tongue, and glances over at the image. It was her again; head thrown back, arms grasping at the sliver of his torso visible at the bottom of the picture. Her knees around his hips, her legs were so wide her cunt was exposed; he was completely inside her.

She chews on her lips as the memory of the sensations fill her. It had been far from their first time; but the only time she’d cried. He’d shushed her and rocked her with his thrusts, even as he kissed her tears he had never stopped fucking her. It was just what she’d needed, _he_ was just what she needed.

“Spot the difference …” she mutters, and she pulls the zip down to the bottom of her white dress; shrugging out of it completely and leaving it pooled at her waist, crossing one knee over the other. In her underwear; she watches with satisfaction as his eyes widen. She puts her hands on the desk and leant back a little; letting him drink in the sight of her matching candy pink bra and panties.

“Check again; I’ve put on 11 pounds since then,” she says, less satisfied as she pokes at the disheartening beginning of an inevitable muffin top, contrasting against her younger, slimmer self.

Jasper blows out a low whistle, and tilts further away from her. “So true, get out of here,” he says absently, engrossed in unbuckling his belt and pulling himself out of his pants.

Alice gasps and her head swivels behind her to check the firmly closed door. “Put that away!” she hisses, feeling a hysterical giggle in her throat.

His brows go up. “You are nude on my desk.”

Alice shrugs, retorts, “not yet.” and unhooks her bra, letting it fall between his feet on the floor.

He sucks in a breath. “Alice!” he cries, and without further ado he grabs her hips and yanks her to him.

She stifles her startled laughter with one hand, the other gripping onto his shoulder for balance. They’re lucky for her early ballet years; her legs are on either side of the very wide leather chair as he tries to grind their crotches together. His hands spread up her torso, one across her breasts and another down her thighs. She feels his erection against her mons and sucks in a deep breath of her own. He bites the shell of her ear, and she yips as she pushes at his neck to get him to back off.

“You’re at _work_ ,” she hisses, and this time he scowls, his hands only tightened mercilessly on her thighs so she can’t move off. She chokes off her next moan, the grip sends an ache straight between her legs. “I said I wasn’t fucking you at work!” she grits out, and for a few moments he doesn’t move. Then lets out a sigh, unhappily untensing and letting her go.

“I wanna quit,” he grumbles. Alice tuts as she climbs off of him, and squats to grab her dress, fallen to the floor.

He gives another big sigh just for the sake of it, as she shakes out her dress, and then spreads it out underneath his desk. She hears his confused hum as she backs underneath, on top of the white fabric to avoid carpet burn.

“I said I wasn’t _fucking_ you at work,” she reminds him, smiling prettily as he begins to grin. “11 more pounds but I can fit in here,” she mutters to herself, but he hears her and laughs.

She crooks a finger, and he rolls his chair forward carefully. Her elbows shoved on the other side of his thighs; he hugs her with his knees as she pulls out his half-hard dick.

One open-mouth kiss to the head, while looking straight into his eyes, has him twitching under her lips.

“Lil’ darlin’,” he drawls, slumping back in the chair and sighing, this time much more pleased. Her breasts are pushed against the lip of the seat of his chair, but her nipples flattened against the leather feels wonderful.

She wraps one hand around the shaft and feels under for his balls. “Do your work,” she whispers, and the back of her hand grazes a wet spot in his underwear. “Think you’ve been procrastinating for a while now,” she teases, twisting her hand and jerking him slowly as she cups his sack. Limp, he slumps forward this time, some tell-tale shuffling signalling the photos being shuffled back into a pile.

She focuses on her own work, fixing her mouth over the cockhead and bobbing down half-way, her tongue pressing his shaft to the roof of her mouth as she gives one hard suck.

He shudders so hard one of his knees bangs against his desk, but as she’s resting her arms over them she gives a short whine in complaint, the vibrations making him hiss and his thighs tense.

She gets into a rhythm, bobbing and sucking halfway down his shaft - she never managed to deep-throat with any ease, but she saves the effort for special occasions. She is vaguely aware he seems to be trying to type on his computer, when his door opens.

She pauses but doesn’t freeze. She’s small; the desk is huge.

“Mr Whitlock,” Rosalie’s voice is muffled just a touch from under the desk. Alice pulls herself off and grips his dick, rubbing her thumb over the leaking slit. She didn’t want to draw attention, after all. “Did I miss saying good-bye to your wife?”

Jasper clears his throat, and wickedly, she gives him one firm squeeze just so he has to clear it again. “She’s a quick thing; not one to waste time,” his tone is very even despite the fact. “Can I help you?”

“A client asked to schedule a last-minute appointment, Mr. McCarty,” Rosalie explains, “I told him I’d try to squeeze him in, but he should understand if you’re … busy.” The last word is amused, and it stops Alice dead. _She knew_.

For a moment, Alice is a little lost. This could end really, really badly. His dick starts to soften in her grip. Jasper leans back, just a little, and tilts to the side slightly.

Jasper’s sigh is exasperated. “Leaving your shoes just any-old-where …” he grumbles.

Alice claps a hand over her own mouth, but she still giggles. “Sorry!” 

His hand slips down and gropes the side of her head, and, still a little dazed at being caught, she automatically nuzzles into it. Now she’s almost cradling his dick in both hands, not quite wanting to tuck him in; since she’s still in nothing but her panties and heels.

Jasper leans forward again. “Why don’t you assure him I’m busy, and you go take a long lunch?” he suggests brightly.

Rosalie snorts out a laugh. “’Kay.” Her tone is light and airy and Alice can hear her starting to walk away. “Cute shoes, love the pink.” She calls out as the door swishes open.

“Thanks!” Alice calls out, and her hubby’s hand pinches her cheek hard as the door clicks closed. She lets out a peel of post-shame and incredulous giggles, as he rolls back. He stares at her, wide eyed with lips pursed, looking too shocked to speak.

She glances behind her, and realises that his desk doesn’t meet the carpet at the back completely; the toes of her shoes and the bottom of her ass are completely visible.

She sucks in a deep breath, and then grabs his seat and pulls him back in.

“Where were we ….” she mutters, and soon she has him slumped over the desk again. 

Rosalie is only mildly nervous about her new job. Her new boss is going to take some getting used to. She had kind of thought with such a pretty face, his position was certainly the product of nepotism. But the cowboy didn’t have a sphere of influence outside of Texas, though he came from good stock in the industry. No, Mr Whitlock was just good at what he did - close to her in age, and incredibly in love with his wife.

If the toe of her pink pumps just poking out from under his desk were any indication. The woman hadn’t walked in with pink pumps. In fact, Rosalie could see one lone black heel leant against the leg of his desk.

The notion is kind of hot. Jasper Whitlock certainly didn’t look bad in a suit. And his tiny little wife obviously kept herself trim. Plus, it had been so long since Rosalie had gotten some, she’s even starting to linger over those unnecessarily-explicit ads for jeans.

Jasper’s composure had been absolutely solid, though, and Rosalie is almost impressed. He barely flinched at the idea of an impromptu meeting in his current state, though when she said ‘squeeze’ his jaw visibly flexed, clenched tight.

Now, with a lunch she’s sure could probably be as long as she liked, she has a chance to run some errands. Namely, she has a very important question to answer – how common was the last name McCarty?

“Emmett _cannot_ have made it all the way to New York!” she hisses to herself, hating the curl of hot desire in her belly at the thought.

Jasper is not the type of man to shirk his duties at work. But when your gorgeous little wife decides to show off her love of pink, well, a man might just postpone some emails.

Right now, feeling her mouth bob up and down on his cock, there isn’t much else he could do but lay his head on the desk and moan.

“Honey, I’m close ….” he murmurs, the feeling of his wife’s lips bobbing up and down his shaft increased, and he shivers through the sensation building up.

With a grunt, he climaxes in her mouth; his ass and thighs clenching in an attempt not to buck further into her throat. He’s so tensed up that when his phone rings, he jolts in his seat, and, much more alarmingly, his wife’s teeth make an appearance.

It‘s pure animal panic that has him grabbing Alice's head to stop her from biting down. With all the grace of a desperate man, he ended up shoving two fingers into her mouth, jamming them between her molars as he pushes her face back. “Fuck!” he says, as Alice grabs for the hand on her face and one of his thighs.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry!” she mumbles around his fingers, giving them kisses as he pulls them away. “Sorry!” She keeps one hand on his and the other moves from his thigh back to his dick, as she cooes; “Lemme kiss it better …”

But Jasper grabs the phone and ends up saying to her, and straight into the receiver; “ _No,_ ” he doesn’t feel her moving anymore, and clears his throat. “This is Jasper Whitlock.”

At his suddenly blank tone, his wife gives an amused huff that feels dangerously close to his dick, so he prods her face in warning.

“ _Jasper! My man!_ ” For once, Jasper is grateful for Emmett’s boisterous nature. “ _Look, know you’re swamped, wouldn’t be askin’ under just any circumstances,_ ” Emmett continues, Jasper hums something affirmative as his wife tucks him back into his slacks, _“but my guy - I’m talking all expenses paid! With a plus one!”_

Addled from the mostly-excellent blow-job, Jasper shakes his head and tries to make sense of the conversation as he rolls away from his desk to free his wife.

“Emmett! What on earth are you — look, hang on a second.” He puts the phone on hold, to watch a little mournfully as Alice zips her little white dress back up. He stood up as she was smoothing out some of the wrinkles. That’s all the invitation she needs to pull his neck down for a quick kiss. “Baby, I gotta kick you out,” he mutters against her lips.

Alice nips his lower lip, before pulling back and grabbing her original pair of shoes. He cups her ass as she bends over to grab them, and gives her a firm pat as she bounds off. “I’m _going_ ,” she sighs, grinning with all her teeth. “Tell everyone I said bye!”

Before she reaches the door, something occurs to Jasper and he calls; “Wait! Did you … swallow or …?” He feels immediately embarrassed saying the words aloud, even married as long as they’d been. Alice blinks and tilts her head to the side, her grin turning something predatory.

“That was in _my_ wedding vows,” Alice purrs, winking as she flounces out the door.

Jasper watches her go with a rueful shake of his head, before he sees the flashing light on his phone and remembers he had a call. He hits the speakerphone. “What expenses?” he asks as he sits back down.

“ _Bread and breakfast. Up in the Whistlers._ ” Emmett replies, still maintaining his excitement.

“Bed and breakfast in the mountains?” Jasper can’t hide his disgust. “No, I’m a Southern boy, can’t stand the cold.”

“ _Don’t be sour! I have a contact, I can get girls, some very choice pieces.”_ Emmett explains, unaware of Jasper’s constant head-shake. “ _I think that’s what ‘snow-bunny’ means, anyway._ ”

“I’m married, and not interested,” Jasper reminds him calmly.

He also has a very strong urge to find out who that ‘contact’ had been. Emmett’s grown, and no fool; but there was something in his wholesome, small-town upbringing that shone through at times. He also knows the man feels he has something to prove in shedding his ‘hill-billy’ past. “You probably shouldn’t dabble, either.” Jasper adds sternly. Emmett is only three years younger than him, but he can be stubborn. “In far above your head.”

“ _Don’t pull wool, I’ve been assured this is exactly what city-boys do_ ,” Emmett's tone is still flippant, and Jasper isn’t settled.

“Not all of us.” he says curtly. The man isn’t an ass, but Jasper’s sure this was the kind of stunt Emmett might feel obliged to see through to save face with co-workers whose last names got them further than Emmett’s college scholarship ever did. “But my wife and I would be thrilled to accompany you,” Jasper tells him, “Meaning you better not bring unsavory company.”

“ _Not at all!_ ” Emmett replies, sounding very, very happy. _“Not if Little Miss is coming — I’m not an animal. No, I’ll third-wheel.”_ Emmett assures him merrily. Jasper’s sure he would enjoy the company, from what the man has told him; his family still felt a little too uncomfortable with his flashy job and the paycheck that came along with it to enjoy any spoils from the youngest son.

“You will not,” Jasper tells him, as a glance at the slowly opening door reveals Rosalie, back from lunch. “I’ll have … I’ll bring a fourth,” he says, cogs turning as he waves Rosalie inside, “it’ll be fun.” 

Running a hand through his hair, Jasper watches as Rosalie carefully looks around his desk, making a point that he does not appreciate. Annoyed, but embarrassed, he fiddles with the shell of his ear until she stands to attention. He certainly isn’t going to bring up the incident ever again. “You can learn to ski.”

She raises her eyebrows, and Jasper turns off the speakerphone to speak with her, though he can hear Emmett boom through the receiver, “ _Actually, it snows back home, so that’s in the bag_.”

“Can you ski?” he asks her.

Rosalie nods slowly. “My family used to winter in the Hampshires.”

Jasper’s face screws up almost involuntarily at such a WASP-y answer. “I’ll allow the Yankee nonsense,” he mutters with a dismissive hand-wave. “You’re coming to Victoria — it’s free, my wife won’t want to be the only woman in the group.”

Rosalie looks baffled at the sudden invite, but she was also raised to aspire to not much more than becoming a trophy-wife. She isn’t going to turn down a free vacation. She asks; “There’s a group?”

“Just four including you,” Jasper replies, hitting speakerphone again as he does, “you’re welcome.” He shoos her then, and Rosalie looks pleased to head back to her desk. Since now she had an entire new mountain resort wardrobe to plan. “I’ve got the numbers, Emmett; have it arranged.”

“ _On it!_ ” Are Emmett’s last words as he hangs up. Jasper huffs out a laugh as he cuts the dial tone and glances up to see Rosalie’s furrowed brow as she hovers in the doorway.

“Anything the matter?” Jasper asks, hoping his low tone conveyed that the ‘matter’ better have nothing to do with his recently-vacated desk.

“That was Emmett … McCarty? From your earlier meeting?” Rosalie asks him softly.

Jasper inclines his head. “One and the same,” he agrees, “I prefer the door closed.” 

Rosalie is already ducking out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna have to let me know what you think if you want more.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I were capable of PWP, but as it stands it’s porn with a gratuitous amount of plot.


End file.
